Why yes, I AM limping!

If you've seen me walking around since finishing the marathon, you'll notice that I've got a bit of a limp/hobble going on.  My hip/thigh is not quite right.  As the week has gone by, the bruise on my leg has grown and become more colorful every day.  It seems not quite right, but I've never run a marathon before so who knows what to expect.  I'm hoping that the discomfort just gradually fades away over the next week or so.  We'll see, I guess.  What I do know is that the darker the bruise gets, the better I'm feeling about my horrible marathon time.  I mean, come on, I'm CLEARLY injured, right?

The Marathon, part two

Mile 20 was coming up and we were desperate to get some love.  Just after the water stop, Gary said, “I think I see the kids!”  We gulped down our powerade, threw our cups aside, and started running just to give the illusion that we were still doing fine and able to run.  (This was SO not true.)  Katherine and Oliver came running up to us with hugs and the extra packs of powerade gummies that I had asked them to bring.  My mom and Liz were standing there with cameras, snapping photos.  My mom said something about being worried because they hadn’t gotten the text messages that said where we were and she had been praying that we were doing ok.  I don’t have a lot of words to describe how I felt at this little pit stop.  We both loved that the kids were there cheering for us.  I was incredibly grateful to my mom and sister for being there to support us.  It meant a lot to have all of them there.

Not too far down the road, we saw Dawn, Jamie, and Carter Paulson.  We actually heard Dawn yelling for us before we saw her.  “Go Team Mullen!”  As we got closer, Dawn got a little teary, which made me teary, and we hugged and talked for a few seconds before we moved on.  Dawn is my closest friend and we have shared many things together and I have never been so grateful for her friendship and support as I was at that moment.  Having her and her family there really meant a lot to me.

But there were still 6 miles to go and there was just over an hour left before we would hit the 5 hour mark.  I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t make my goal because we hadn’t been running 10 minute miles for quite some time, but Gary tried to tell me that it wasn’t impossible.  (I knew better.)  I wasn’t running as much as I was hobbling by this point and I was losing confidence quickly.  I knew we could finish, but it wasn’t going to be pretty and I really didn’t know that I could spend much time running.  I’d pick out a sign on the side of the road and tell Gary that I was running to that sign, then I’d choose a sign or a crack in the road and tell him when I’d stop walking.

Mile 21 was the mile dedicated to Katherine and I really just wanted to get through that mile for her.  I knew there would be a hill at mile 22 and I told Gary when I saw it up ahead that I was going to be walking up that hill.  So I had to just keep running (aka hobbling) as long as I could and once I got to that hill I could walk.  Mile 22 was for Oliver and while I really wanted to stop, I didn’t because I knew that Oliver would keep on running, no matter how tired he was.  

It was sometime around here that some guy came up to Gary, looked at his England shirt and said, “Are you from England?”  He proceeded to recite a poem written by an Englishman that started out with the lines “If I should die…” and I did not think that was very appropriate for the situation we were in because I very much felt like dying!  He must have stopped and had a few cups of beer that the drunk college students were handing out.  Very odd choice of poem, indeed!  

The girl in the purple shirt was still keeping pace with us.  Gary kept prodding me to start running when she was getting closer.  I was honestly surprised that she hadn’t passed us, but maybe that’s why I chose her to be my pace setter.  I thought that I should be able to beat her, so I was glad that she was having as difficult a time as I was having.  

My hip, burning with every step, was really driving me crazy.  I so wanted to get done with the stupid marathon, but I just couldn’t go any faster.  We were trudging along London Road and I made the Portland Malt Shoppe my next goal.  Thankfully, mile 24 was right at the same spot, so I ran to my goal spot, got some powerade, and took a walking break.  

We were at Lake St/Canal Park Drive at mile 24.5 when Gary called out, “I think I see the kids again!”  Amazingly enough, we were actually running at that point so we didn’t need to do any theatrics to make it appear like we weren’t walking.  I went over and gave each of the kids a big hug and told them that I loved them.  My mom got a hug.  Liz got a hug.  I was feeling very emotional and grateful to them.  And I wanted so much to be done running.  We later found out that they weren’t actually waiting there for us, they were just walking to the finish line and we happened to be there at the same time.  (The Big Guy upstairs knows how to maneuver people around to they’re in the exact right spot at the exact right time.)

We went down Superior Street to mile 25 and were turning left to run across the bridge at 5^th Ave W when I heard the voice calling out my name. “Come on Deby and Gary!  You’re almost there!”  There was Dawn again, cheering us on.  She ran into the street and said she was running with us.  (Have I mentioned that she is 34 weeks pregnant?)  She was faster than I was going at that point, so I put a little more energy into it and kept up with her.  It was a short run, but the memory of her running alongside us will remain with me forever.  

We headed along Harbor Drive and we realized that the tailwind that we had for all of the race so far was gone and we were instead hit with the wind right in our faces.  We ran alongside the DECC and then next to the William A Irvin ship.  I wanted to walk a few times, and I did, but started running after only short walking breaks.  I almost quit alongside the ship, but I heard the guy next to me saying to himself, “Just get to the stop sign, make it to the stop sign.”  So I told Gary that I was running to the stop sign just like that guy.  Purple shirt girl was way behind us.  I had found a new person to beat.  It was a woman in a pink shirt who appeared to be in her 60s who was barely shuffling along and I really did not want to finish after her.  Mentally, I thought that I could beat her, but honestly, it was hard to tell if I could actually carry out that physical task.

The last 1.2 miles seemed to take FOREVER.  We headed under the Canal Park Drive bridge and then up the road to the finish line.  We finally got to the yellow mile 26 balloon and Gary suggested that maybe we could go a little faster.  While finishing ahead of that pink shirt lady was incredibly important to me, I didn’t know if I had it in me.  I had a burst of “speed” that lasted for about 10 seconds before I realized that I really didn’t have much left to give.  And I wasn’t at the finish line yet.  But, purple shirt girl and pink shirt lady were still behind me, I couldn’t stop now.  I couldn’t give up my lead.

There was loud music playing.  The announcer said, “The Mullens, Deby and Gary from Blaine, Minnesota!”  I raised my arms and cheered for us as we passed over a set of timing mats and I could see the finish mats only a few steps ahead.  Gary reached for my hand and I tried to look happy as we crossed that finish line together.  We hugged, I waved to my family, I realized that I had finally made it to the finish.  A smiling man congratulated me and put my medal over my head.  

Five hours, ten minutes, and fifty-seven seconds.  

It was not the time that I had hoped for.  My hip injury had caused me much more pain than I had thought it would.  I have spent a lot of time telling myself that I am not a failure and that I couldn’t have given more than I did.  I know that I should be happy.  I finished a marathon.  It’s incredibly amazing that I accomplished that.  I know.  But I can’t help but feel a little disappointed.  

However, I am grateful to my friends and family who supported me along the way.  I am incredibly grateful for Gary who was there right next to me for the entire race and was exactly who I needed him to be when I needed him.  There are no words to describe how amazing he is.  

With time, I will figure out how to better appreciate my experience.  I spent four months physically training for Grandma’s Marathon.  I spent even more time mentally preparing myself for it.  I accomplished something that not many people attempt.  And like Katherine reminded me at the finish line, “The miracle isn’t that I finished.  The miracle is that I had the courage to start.”

The Marathon, part one

On marathon day, I woke up at 4:52am and heard the sound of a steady rain hitting the roof.  Not good.  I was just hoping that the rain wouldn’t be too heavy and that it wouldn’t last for the whole morning.  I moped around a little bit about the rain, and then decided to just get ready and try and not worry about it too much.  I had a few mini blueberry muffins and a glass of milk.  Got dressed in my “Finishing = Winning” shirt (I was hoping the words would actually sink in and mean something) and Gary and I headed off to where the bus would pick us up near Somers Hall.  

We were the last two people on the bus before it left for the starting line so we didn’t get to sit next to each other.  I had been warned that the bus ride would seem like it took forever, so I decided it would be best to start up a conversation with my seat mate.  Grandma’s was his 2^nd marathon.  He was also a bit injured and I decided that maybe more people are running injured than I realized.  That helped my morale a little bit.  We discussed how childbirth was much like a marathon, except that the intense pain of childbirth could go on indefinitely and with a marathon, one can pretty well guess how long it’s going to take.  He said that if I could birth children, that running a marathon would be easy.  (I doubted it since my unmedicated childbirth with Oliver only lasted 45 minutes…  NO WAY I’d be done with a marathon that quickly!)

Gary and I got off the bus at 6:18am and stood around waiting with everyone else for about an hour before we headed to the starting chute.  We took some photos, stretched, got nervous, people watched, port-a-pottied, and got our bags into the gear check garbage cans while we waited.  The white flag was flying which meant that there was a risk of hypothermia.  We saw a group of people who all had matching t-shirt on.  They were running with Monty who was running his 100^th marathon.  I can’t even imagine…

Gary helped me put on my bracelet.  The day before, I asked people on Facebook to volunteer to help me stay motivated during the marathon.  I took one of the pace bracelets from the expo and on the back of it, I wrote a person’s name for each mile.  I planned on taking one mile at a time and thinking about one person for each mile.  I had new friends, old friends, family members, co-workers, neighbors… It was great! 

As we waited in the starting chute, I started to notice the masses of men who were going off to the side of the road to pee.  I don’t know if it’s the nurse in me or what, but I find it incredibly gross when people do that sort of thing.  Emergency?  Fine.  But when there are literally hundreds of port-a-potties across the road, I find it a bit disgusting.  I had heard that it would be a common occurrence along the race course though, so I tried not to focus on that.

There was music playing on loudspeakers.  When “Chariots of Fire” began just before the race start, I had to laugh.  I think everyone equates that song with running, but I had found a video online that had the song playing in the background while it showed some women finishing an ironman race.  They were so tired at the end, they had fallen down and ended up crawling to the finish.  At that moment, I was really hoping that I would be able to cross the finish line standing up.  

The train went by us and sounded its horn and I guess that was the start of the race!  It took us 5 minutes to get up to the starting line and then… WE WERE OFF!

The first few miles went by wonderfully.  Our pace was good, less than 10 minute miles.  Our goal was to just stay ahead of the 5:00 pacer.  Gary had a bracelet on that told us the mile-by-mile breakdown of where we should be and we were easily ahead of schedule.  People were chatting and joking.  Gary started talking about running the London Marathon.  And I was thinking that maybe it would be fun.  We got to the first water stop at mile three and we grabbed a quick cup of powerade, just for good measure.  The Two Harbors HS Pep Band was playing “Louie, Louie” and it brought back memories of my own pep band days.  I was enjoying the course, a few little hills, but nothing unbearable.  Trees all around us.  The rain had stopped.  It was beautiful!  Cloudy and 50 degrees—perfect running weather.

I started looking around for people I knew at mile 5 near Knife River.  I think I saw someone from my work and I called out her name, but either it wasn’t her or she didn’t hear me.  We got some more powerade/water and continued on our run.  There was a nice little string quartet playing inside a shed on the side of the road.  It was funny to watch people head off into the woods on the side of the road to pee.  Girls running further up the side than the guys.  I decided to wait for a port-a-potty that wasn’t too crowded.  Besides, it couldn’t hurt to wait in line and stretch at the same time.  My hip was starting to ache a little bit.

Just before mile 6, we had our little pit stop and stretched.  It took about 5 minutes but we were still a few minutes ahead of the 5:00 pace team, so we were ok.  By the time we got to mile 7, we had a few more minutes of cushion time.  I was doing well looking at my bracelet and thinking of stories and memories of my motivation volunteers at the start of each mile. 

Things continued on just fine for a few miles.  My hip was starting to hurt more, but we kept going.  Gary kept pushing me to keep going.  We weren’t going incredibly speedy so we were able to talk quite a bit.  We grabbed water/powerade at miles 7 and 9, walking through the stops and then running again.  The pattern was working nicely for us.  

By the time we go to mile 11, the pain was starting to get more intense.  I told Gary that we should have a conversation about what would happen when I needed to drop out of the race.  He decided to just ignore that and pretend like I never said it.  He suggested that we stop at the first aid vehicle, but I dismissed that idea because I was worried they’d make me drop out.  What else could they do?  I didn’t want to lose too much time.

When we got to the midway point at mile 13, I was re-thinking my decision.  We got our drinks and then I ran over to the first aid tent and asked if they had any ibuprofen.  They opened up a big bottle and poured a few into my hand.  Being a good nurse, I asked the dosage and kept track of what time it was so I would know when it was safe to take more.  We were still ahead of the 5:00 pacer, phew.  My 13 mile motivation volunteer has suffered a lot of health problems, so I used her as motivation to just keep going.

Shortly after that, I saw a big sign with some generic names on it and I was thinking, “I wish I had a commonly spelled name so I could have my name on a sign.  We’re never going to see a sign with our names on it.”  Well, not more than a minute later, I saw a big red sign that said my name on it!  We ran over to the opposite side of the road and found Kris and Jon Mallett enthusiastically calling our names.  It was absolutely great to see people we knew.  Kris gave me a hug and denied one for Gary because he looked too sweaty.  (Ha ha!)  And then they sent us on our way so that we didn’t lose too much time.  It was a great energy boost that I definitely needed.

It didn’t last long, though.  By mile 16, I had stretched and waited while Gary took a bathroom break and then I headed over to the medical tent to see if they had some Tylenol for me.  It was way too early for more ibuprofen, but I needed something and I was hoping the Tylenol would help.  It was right about this time when some woman was badly singing hymns on the side of the road and her buddy was a little further along with a big bullhorn telling me why I should repent my sins and ask for forgiveness.  I’m sure they meant well, but at that moment, I remember distinctly thinking that I would like to just punch them.  I said to Gary, “Do you think that anyone really cares about what they’re saying at this moment?”

To make matters worse, during our pit stop the 5:00 pacer went ahead of us.  

I think that was the beginning of the end for me.  Until that moment, I felt like I could still hit my goal.  But after the pacer passed us, I felt somewhat defeated.  We could still see the red and white balloons bobbing up and down in front of us, but I knew that the pain in my hip wasn’t going away and catching up to that pacer seemed impossible.  Still, if we could keep her in our sights, maybe, just maybe, I could get my goal.

Back to the course, Gary reminded me that we were only a few miles away from hopefully seeing the kids and that cheered me up quite a bit.  Of course, seeing them is also quite emotional and I started thinking about how I didn’t want to fail myself by not being able to finish the race.  It’s hard to run when you’re crying, so I had to pull myself together really quickly.  

We continued on as best we could, but I had to stop and walk more often than I wanted to.  The hip pain was never ending and at times it was a shooting, burning feeling.  (Those were the times I decided it would be best to walk and not run.)  We got to mile 18 and I remember seeing a girl with a purple shirt that we kept playing tag with.  I decided that I wanted to beat her to the finish.  Every time we’d walk she would catch up to us, then we’d run and get ahead.  But we kept running into her.  I told Gary my plan and he did a great job of telling me when she was getting close and we’d start running.  

Beginning with mile 19, the water stops were set up at every mile.  Before the race, we had talked about stopping at every water stop and walking through them, and we definitely kept that philosophy.  I was also stopping at least one other time in the mile between water stops.   We were running on London Road now and there were a lot more spectators.  But I was getting to the point where I just needed to focus on the task at hand and not care too much about the random people on the side of the road, so I didn’t pay a lot of attention.

TWO Days!

We leave tomorrow morning for Duluth.

I repeat: We leave tomorrow morning for Duluth!

Isn't that just crazy?  Back in February, it seemed like June 18th would never get here.  And honestly, I was so thankful for that.  That first week of training when I had three easy 3 mile runs and one "long" run of 6 miles... that was cake.  Fast forward to week 15 when I had a 5 mile, a 10 mile, another 5 mile, and then a 20 mile.  After that week, I deserved cake.  (Ha ha!)

I'm slightly bummed out that I missed out on the last three weeks of running.  I've definitely missed it, but I'm not sure that going out and running 26.2 miles all at once is going to be good for me.  All I can hope is that it doesn't kill me.  That's been my hope all along.  Nobody dies during Grandma's Marathon.  (Especially me!)

So I'm packing my things.  Hoping I don't forget my pretty purple shoes or my powerbar gels.  Getting the kids' clothes ready, complete with Team Mullen shirts and cowbells.  Leaving my iPod and my Nike+ at home because the good for nothing thing and I are not in a loving relationship at the moment.

And we're headed off to the beauty of Duluth, MN.  The land of $6 milkshakes and Sir Ben's Tavern and fun statues in Canal Park.

I can't wait!

(I think...)

Down to the wire

Here we are, race week!  I haven't run for 10 days.  Sometimes it's still painful for me to just move from sitting to standing up.  Other times I don't feel anything until I walk.  But occasionally, I try a little jogging and it doesn't feel too bad.  I'm pretty sure that it's still going to be hurting on Saturday, but I'm going to try and not let that stop me.  I have PT again tomorrow.  We'll see what my buddy Bruce the PT tells me then.

There are good things about being injured.  It means that now I have absolutely no time goal in mind at all.  If I finish, I'll be happy.  Wait, I lied.  If I finish but don't get there in time to get my medal, I'll be unhappy.  So that gives me 7 hours to finish.  I'd like to think that it's an attainable goal.  (And if it's looking like it's not, then I might just find myself leaving the race course a bit early.)

The bad news is that I'm completely setting myself up to have to run another marathon.  (Ugh, this one KILLS me!)  Knowing that I missed out on 2 weeks of training at the end here will haunt me if I can't finish within the original time frame that I was planning on.  I'll always wonder what I could have done if I hadn't injured myself.  So I'll have to run another marathon (and pray that I don't get injured during training) to find out what could have been.  I just don't know if I'll force myself to run Grandma's again or whether I'll do a different race.  Honestly, I don't even like thinking about this aspect of things.  But I know myself enough to know that it's true.  I'll be forced to do the whole 18 weeks of training again when I'm completely healed up and do it all over again.

So yes, it's race week.  In 5 short days, I will be attempting to run a marathon.  It doesn't sound as crazy as it once did.  (But don't get me wrong, it's still crazy!)  You can follow my race day progress with this handy dandy runner tracker.  Hopefully I won't let you down.

PT update

In case you want to follow along in the "Deby's injured" saga, here's what happened today at physical therapy.

Bruce, PT wondered how my run went yesterday.  After I described feeling like something changed at the 1/2 mile point in my run, he decided to check my alignment again.  I guess I am now mis-aligned, so he fixed that.  Then he did some more ultrasound treatment on me.  Then he was subjected to seeing and touching my horrible looking feet while he taped me up like a gymnast to try and give me a little more arch support. 

Off to the treadmill...

I started running on the treadmill and that's when the slight discomfort I felt with every step while walking turned back into the sharp, shooting pain.  I didn't last long on there.  Bruce, PT seems to think that I have a heel strike when I put my foot down, so he encouraged me to focus on hitting with the ball of my foot and not my heel.  (I don't think that I heel strike, but I'll see what I can do to try and be conscious of where my foot is hitting the ground.)

He watched me do my prescribed exercises and said he'd see me on Tuesday.  I shouldn't run this weekend, but maybe do some biking just to get some cardio in.  So maybe tomorrow I'll bike next to Gary while he runs.  I'm sure he'll love that.

Good times.

I'm feeling less confident today about my ability to be ok to run the marathon.  Honestly, there's no way I can race 26.2 miles with this pain.  But I'm not giving up until someone actually tells me that I can't do it.  So... the saga continues.

This is what I was afraid of

When one decides to run a marathon, there are many fears to be had.  The first question is, can I run/jog/walk 26.2 miles without dying?  When the answer to that question leans more towards the "maybe" than the "no way" side, then you pay your registration money and start to ask other questions.

-How will I train?
-How will I mentally prepare to run that far?
-What if I poop my pants?
-Who will be my support people?
-18 weeks of training is really long.  What if I get injured during training?
-Can I really do this?

At a certain point, the questions change.  I think after my successful 20 mile run last week, I stopped worrying about training and starting thinking more about the actual race.

-What if the weather is horrible on race day?
-What am I wearing for the race?
-What if I poop my pants? (that one never goes away.)
-What if I oversleep my alarm and miss the bus to the starting line?

I was feeling like I was past the point of worrying about training.  I'm in my taper weeks.  Everything is GREAT!  I'm almost there!  The thing that I thought I could never do is actually going to happen!

I guess I shouldn't have skipped ahead to the race day questions just yet. 

My hip has been giving me some problems over the last two weeks or so.  Nothing major, but I felt it and it worried me a little bit.  I didn't notice any problems during our 20 mile run over the weekend so I figured that everything would be just fine.  But when I ran my 5 miles on Tuesday on the treadmill, I knew that something was wrong.  Maybe it was a mistake to go back to BodyFlow on Tuesday morning, who knows.

I put ice on my hip right after the run.  I stretched really well.  But I knew that I might be in trouble.  I called on Wednesday morning and got an appointment with my doctor, hoping that she'd get me a referral for some physical therapy and I could get it checked out quickly.  It was a miracle that I not only got in to my doctor on Wednesday morning, but an appointment at the Institute for Athletic Medicine opened up for Wednesday afternoon.  (I was told by someone that I'd "never" get an appointment so quickly.)

Bruce, PT did his little eval and concluded that my injury was a result of lots of training + weak core muscles (not a surprise!) and he did an ultrasound treatment on my hip.  The x-rays showed nothing out of the ordinary, so that was good.  I had been given a prescription for a prednisone taper by the doctor so I started that.  Bruce said that he'd hook me up with an appointment for Friday morning.  He told me to go out and run my 8 miles for the day and just see how it felt.   He said that he wasn't telling me not to run the marathon.  He said he was looking forward to coming into work on Monday, June 20th and looking up my name in the results of Grandma's Marathon and that it had better not say "DNF" after my name.

So, I was feeling hopeful after the visit.

I woke up this morning and my hip was feeling much better.  (Yay!)  I brought Oliver over to my Dad's house so they could have play/fishing time together while I ran, and I was off.  I decided to run around my Parents' small lake (8 miles = 12 times.)  I'd be shielded from the wind and it was a short distance around the lake in case I needed to stop.  But I really thought I'd be just fine.  The sun had come out and the day was turning out to be a perfect day for an 8 mile run.

FAIL.

About a half mile into my run, something felt different in my hip.  I stopped running and walked for a few minutes after I'd run about a mile, hoping that the break would help.  But when I started back running, the shooting, burning pain in my right hip was just too bad and I figured that I should stop before I did too much damage.  Less than 1.5 miles and I was done.

So, I'm not giving up yet.  But I will admit that I'm worried about the marathon.  I have a mere 16 days to get this thing healed up.  I've spent a lot physical time training and a lot more emotional time getting myself to where I am today.  But will I be able to run on race day?  Who knows.  I'm really hoping that it doesn't get to the point where I need to not run.

How will I feel if that becomes a reality?  I'll be incredibly disappointed.  Crushed.  Gutted.  But I'm not there yet, so I need to try and stay positive.  (For someone who is still kind of stuck on the "Can I run 26.2 miles without dying?" question, positivity about the marathon is sometimes difficult to come by.)  We'll see...

For now, I'll hobble around like an old lady and pray that I can heal up in time to set my marathon PR.